


Practically married

by maryloohoo



Category: The Grinning Man - Philips & Teitler/Grose & Morris & Philips & Teitler/Grose
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dancing, Fluff, Gwynplaine saying the word 'yeet', Too many West Side Story references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25804816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryloohoo/pseuds/maryloohoo
Summary: “Dea and I are practically married anyway”Dea is thinking, Gwynplaine is singing
Relationships: Grinpayne/Dea
Kudos: 8





	Practically married

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure, self-indulgent fluff and I have no excuse.  
> Thank you to gremlinny for coming up with Dea's last name, and Arthur Laurents for writing the book of West Side Story :)

Dea was almost asleep. She was SO CLOSE to being asleep. She wasn’t lying in her bed wide awake and she definitely hadn’t been for the past hour, no sir. She was on her way to sweet dreams.

She definitely wasn’t still up thinking about what Gwynplaine had said earlier that night. She definitely wasn’t replaying his soft voice saying “Dea and I are practically married anyway” over and over in her head. Nope.

Practically married, she wondered. Were they practically married? When you live together, love each other, make decisions based on the other as much as yourself...she had to admit, that did sound pretty married.

Practically married. It was the practically that made it still an almost. If they were actually married, she thought, Gwynplaine would be in bed with her right-

Dea’s train of thought was interrupted by a small, very faint sound at the edge of her consciousness. If she’d actually been as close to falling asleep as she wanted to be she probably would’ve dismissed it as a dream. But she was wide awake, and there it was: a male voice, singing, coming from somewhere in her house.

She sat up straight and stayed as still as she could, listening. It was high, for a male voice, and sweet too, sweeter than Ursus had ever sounded when he tried to sing them lullabies as kids. So it wasn’t Ursus, and unless Mojo has magically grown a human voice box...

Gwynplaine was singing?

This, Dea had to experience first-hand.

As quietly as she could, she crept out of bed, following the voice down the hall towards the living room. As she got closer, she could start to make out words, and she almost stopped breathing. “Practically married” indeed...

Taking the last step into the entryway of the living room, she cleared her throat, loudly. The singing stopped, there was rustling that sounded like flailing, and something dropped on the ground, probably a mouse by the sound of it.

“Dea”, Gwynplaine said, small.

“Hello, my love”, Dea said, “How are you?”

“I’m...good” said Gwynplaine, sounding...well, if Dea was being honest with herself, he sounded scared.

She decided to show him no mercy.

“Were you just...singing?” she asked. Hearing sputtering noises, she continued, “Were you, Gwynplaine Trelaw, just singing West Side Story?”

After another moment of spluttering, Gwynplaine opted to ignore her completely, instead asking, “What are you still doing up?”

“Thinking”, Dea replied, wasting no time, “You sounded lovely. Why are you sitting here alone in the middle of the night singing musical theater?”

Dea heard him cross the room in two steps of his impossibly long legs and suddenly she felt her hand in his. Well. At least this was nice, if uncooperative.

“I wasn’t singing, I was thinking”, Gwynplaine said quickly.

“Well unless Mojo has suddenly learned One Hand One-“

Her joke was cut off by a small, delighted intake of breath as she felt his lips brush her hand. Then, before she could say anything else-

“Dance with me?”

“What?”

“Dance with me” Gwnplaine said, softly intense.

“My love, you remember what happened last time you asked that?”

“I do”

“And is it going to happen again?”

“It is not”

“I need you to say it”

Dea heard the most third most dramatic sigh that Gwynplaine was capable of, and then

“I, Gwynplaine Trelaw, solemnly swear not to yeet you across the living room”

Dea nodded. “Thank you. I just need one more thing from you if you want to dance with me”

“Anything, my love”

“Well if we’re dancing, we need music” Dea said, “I need you to keep singing”.

She felt Gwynplaine stiffen, and then let out the tension along with his fifth most dramatic sigh.

“Not that I was singing before,” he said, “but since you asked me, and it would make it easier to dance, I will hum a tune”.

“Thank you for your generosity, my lord” Dea said dramatically, dropping into a curtsy.

Gwynplaine pulled her back up with a chuckle and then into his arms. They started to sway back and forth slowly. And then he started to hum.

Any plausibility deniability he had before of singing was definitely out the window, Dea thought, because now he was humming the exact same song. And of course, it would be that song...

“Gwyn”, she said quietly, as they spun around the carpet, “isn’t that the wedding song?”

He just hummed harder.

“Why were you up thinking?” Dea asked.

The humming stopped, but the spinning did not.

“I bet for the same reason you were up thinking”, he whispered.

“What you said earlier,” Dea ventured softly, “about us being-“

“Practically married”, Gwynplaine finished, even quieter.

Dea felt like she couldn’t breathe. Gwynplaine’s neck under her hands felt so tense she thought it might snap. They spun in silence for a few seconds, before Gwynplaine took a deep breath.

“I didn’t like the practically” he admitted

Dea felt like she was going to cry. “I didn’t either”, she said.

She could feel the tension flow out of him. “Well, good”, he said, “I can do something about that”.

Now it was Dea’s turn to sputter, “You’re not...this isn't..are yo-“

“No, Dea”, Gwyn said quietly, “Not right now. I just...it’s nice to know that I can...plan”.

Dea smiled. She felt Gwynplaine’s hands around her waist tighten.

“Don’t say anything to Ursus,” he said.

Dea snorted. “Like I need to give him more chances to make weirdly pointed comments about grandkids to us” she said.

Gwynplaine laughed. They spun for a few more seconds in silence. It took Dea those few seconds to realize that something was missing.

“Excuse me, Mr Trelaw” she said imperiously.

“Yes, Ms Major?” he answered.

“What happened to our musical accompaniment?” Dea asked.

“I’m sorry, my dear one”, Gwynplaine said, “but I’m not sure if I can continue to sing under these conditions”.

“What conditions?” Dea asked.

“Your hands are very close to my golden throat and they are freezing cold” he said. Moving his hands from around her waist, he put them on top of hers, making her gasp.

“Yours too”, she said. Then she giggled. “Were we really both that nervous?”

Without saying anything, Gwynplaine guided her hands up his neck to rest on either side of his face. Dea ran her fingers over the jagged lines in his cheeks, and she smiled.

“So warm”, she sighed.

Taking one of his hands off of hers, Gwynplaine traced a line with his fingers down the side of Dea’s face from her ear to her jaw. She shivered, part in cold, part in delight.

“Yours too”, he whispered.

Dea had never felt so comfortable in her life. If this was practically married, she couldn’t wait for-

Gwynplaine’s finger had reached the bottom of her chin, and he tilted her mouth up to meet his. The spinning stopped.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! cordiallysent wrote a lovely little sequel/continuation of this so you should go read that too! I'm @look-at-your-shattered-children over on tumblr. Come hang out! :D


End file.
